


The Noise a Secret Makes

by Candylion22



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: AU, F/M, No ZA
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-01
Updated: 2018-07-05
Packaged: 2019-02-26 08:15:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13231713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Candylion22/pseuds/Candylion22
Summary: Rick Grimes is a young deputy who thinks he knows his town like the back of his hand. Then Beth Greene gets snatched off the street in the middle of the night and he realizes just how many secrets King County has to tell. Daryl Dixon’s just a young man with a bad reputation in love with a girl he doesn’t deserve, but that doesn’t mean he’s about to let the world steal her away from him.





	1. Idle Hands

**Author's Note:**

> AN: Will be told in alternating POVs.This is a Bethyl story but also will heavily include most of our favorite characters and I hope you will give it a chance even if you’re not typically a fan of that pairing. Ages have been altered to accommodate my plot but I am trying to keep everyone in character. This is ambitious for me because I am notoriously bad at keeping up with multi-chapter fics but I have a pretty sold ten chapter outline completed and I think I’ll be able to keep up with it. WARNING: Foul language, eventual descriptions of including but not limited to: abuse, rape/non-con, graphic sexual content, alcohol abuse, drug use.

Chapter 1  
Idle Hands

7 Minutes Before

 

The deputy knew better, he really did. Rick Grimes had been on the force for 8 years now, baby faced and fresh out of a 2-year associates program at the junior college up in Piedmont when he got his badge. The school thing had just been to appease his mother, he’d known what he wanted to do with his life since he’d gotten that first plastic holster equipped with a cap gun on his fifth birthday and gotten to ride to school in his granddaddy’s cruiser. She was insistent though, in that guilt tripping way a mamma could be, especially a southern mamma who’d only had one baby when she wanted more. Tradesmen and laborers and lawmen were important she’d say, the backbone of the country, but it wouldn’t be so awful for someone in their family to have a diploma issued from a higher institution than the King County public school system.

  
So, he’d gone off and gotten his mamma a piece of paper and then he’d come home and gave himself to the State of Georgia, for better or worse. Now at 28 the old guys still called him kid, but he knew he was good at his job. And like most men and women in his line of work, he knew you just didn’t go around saying’ the word. Hell, you didn’t even have any business thinkin’ it.

Not unless you were hurtin’ for a rough shift; felt like runnin’ or fightin’ or maybe not going home at all at the end of your tour. Just letting that two syllable demon roll off your tongue was asking for trouble; jinxing or cursing or whatever word you wanted to use for shooting yourself in the damn foot.

He knew better, he really did. So even if he was alone in the cruiser, just musing to himself, he winced when the word slipped between his lips.

“Damn _quiet_ tonight.”

He ran a hand through his short crop of black curls and glanced around the cab, as if anyone might have heard. Only silence echoed back around him.

Yea, he was temping the fates to bring trouble down on him. But shit, it was quiet, even for a spit of a town like Colter.

The Quick Stop was tucked off Potter Road, hugged tight on both sides by heavy woods. The place wasn’t nothing more than a little concrete building with long glass windows plastered with advertisements for Skoal tins, cigarettes and junk food. The ‘Q’ and ‘U’ in the painted sign had long faded into nothing which is why the folks in town all affectionately referred to the place as the ‘Ick’. There were three gas pumps in the lot, illuminated by a flickering neon light and one wore a hand-written sign taped to it announcing it as ‘out of order’.

Occasionally the air conditioning unit next to the air pump on the right side of the building would cough to life and with his window cracked Rick could hear the rhythmic hum of cicadas in the trees. Other than though, nothing.

He blinked out into the inky Georgia night. The stars were muted, thanks to the heavy clouds that had been hanging all day, threatening a downpour with the sporadic drizzle on his windshield. The silence in the car mimicked the weighted droop of the sky, sitting on his chest and shoulders. It was strange and you couldn’t help but to expect the devil to come knocking on a night like this, one that seemed so peaceful. Idle hands and all that.

Which is why he nearly jumped out of his skin when the little bell over the entrance to the ‘Ick’ jingled. Rick cursed himself when he saw his partner snicker as he made his way back to the cruiser.

“You fallin’ asleep out here too?” Deputy Shane Walsh goaded as he pulled open the passenger side door, “Damn near gave Axel heart failure when I walked in. Told him fallin’ asleep at the registers a good way for a fella to get robbed.”

Shane climbed into the cruiser messily, grasping an armful of junk food against his chest and Rick snorted. The Ick had been held up more times than he could count. Colter had been a more picturesque small town once, a post card kind of place where mailbox baseball and the occasional meth lab were the crimes of the century.

In the last ten years things had changed, policing King County wasn’t the same work his granddaddy had once done. The mill on route 9 had closed and left a lot of folks out of work. The guys from the State Police had come down to train them on the “Opiate Crisis” just as it began to bleed its way into their county lines. People were broke, they were desperate and they were high. It wasn’t rocket science that the crime rate had gone up; burglaries, domestics and ODs were at an all-time high.

“Wasn’t sleepin’,” Rick assured defensively as he tightened his lips and squinted in dismay at Shane’s selection of midnight snacks, “just thinkin’.”

“Oh yea?” Shane snorted, making quick work of unwrapping one of the two hotdogs he’d purchased and inhaling half the thing with one bite, crumbs dotting his brown uniform shirt, “Bout what?”

“Stuff,” Rick shrugged non-committedly and then grasped at his heart in feigned pain, “Gives me indigestion just lookin’ at that thing,” he groaned in the smooth Georgia drawl that clung to both men’s words. The senior of the two deputies reached for his thermos of black coffee in the console and took a long sip.

Shane dived into his late-night meal, humming in appreciation between bites. He scoffed at the look of disgust on his friend’s face, lips curled into an amused grin and eyes rolling towards the sky.

“C’mon man, remember we used to live off these things?” he reminded, “look at us now, didn’t do us any harm.”

Rick leaned forward, draping his arms over the steering wheel and suppressing a yawn.

“We just didn’t have a damn thing to do besides ride our bikes to the Ick and eat hotdogs,” he countered tiredly.

Colter was one of two towns housed in the borders of King County and where both deputies had grown up. Population 3,120, it was the kind of place where even if you didn’t know everyone, you knew of them. Before he became a cop he’d known everyone’s gossip in a barber shop kind of way, but being a deputy was like having a behind the scenes pass to the town and it wasn’t one he wanted most of the time. There really wasn’t a way to un-see your high school History teacher parked up with a lady of the night or cope with the realization that the sweet old man who owned the video arcade had been beating the holy hell out of his wife for years.

The neighboring town was Riverwood and they shared most of the important things, like the movie theater, hospital, strip mall and the new Big Spot department store. The King County Sheriff’s Department covered both towns and some stretch of surrounding highway, but he and Shane were almost always assigned grids in Colter, on account of knowing their town like the back of their hands.

Back in third grade the state had started closing some of the small county schools and combining them. Back then Shane’s folks lived on the border and he’d been going to Riverwood; then they started busing him over to Colton and Mrs. Hill had sat him next to Rick Grimes. Just like that, they’d never really left each other’s side. Most folks in town joked about them being brothers, despite Rick’s fair skin and blue eyes compared to Shane’s olive complexion and intense brown orbs. It hadn’t surprised a soul when Walsh went into the deputies’ academy just a year after Rick graduated.

“And look at us now,” Shane nudged his partner with one elbow as he balled the silver hot dog wrapped up in the same hand and popped the tab on a can of coke between his knees with his other. “Not a thing to do but park our cruiser in the Ick parking lot and eat gas station hot dogs.”

He tilted his soda in a toast towards the MDT screen between them where the job board had sat empty all night.

“Yea well,” Rick slouched slightly in his seat and retrieved his hat from where it had been abandoned on his lap, he placed it back of his head and tipped the brim down over his eyes. “Excuse me while I catch ten minutes and pretend I’m home in bed with my wife and not trapped in here smellin’ your burps.”

“So, things are good?” Shane inquired through a mouthful, shrugging and unoffended by his best-friend’s comment “tween’ you an’ Lori?”

“Yea,” Rick smiled lazily under his hat, “you know us. Always fussing’ then workin’ things out. Things are really good actually.”

He continued to feign sleep and expected a retort about him being whipped, the same kind he’d been enduring since he and Lori got together in high school. His devotion to the strong-willed, brown eyed girl had from day one been the only kink in he and Shane’s friendship. Shane liked to party, he liked to meet girls and he was not shy about the fact that he thought his friend was settling down way too soon. Not that Rick had ever cared, he’d been ready to settle since he was seventeen on his first date with the new girl from up state.

He smiled when he remembered the conversation with his wife three nights ago and resisted the urge to spew every detail to his partner like a school girl. She’d made him promise of course, it was still early.

There was no teasing from his friend this time, Shane merely nodded in agreement, crumpling his trash into a ball and swiping his hands against the knees of his uniform pants. The car fell into a silence until a soft clicking noise filled the space, Shane’s thumbs texting away furiously on his cellphone. Rick squinted open an eye and glanced over at him.

“What’d you do to piss Amy off this time?”

Amy was about the closest thing to a steady girlfriend Shane had ever had, always keeping the girl at an arm’s length and not letting her get too close. Every time things got too serious he would break it off with her and Rick never really understood why the little blonde was always waiting around for someone who could be so up and down with her.

“What?” Shane looked genuinely confused for a moment before his upper lip quirked, “oh yea, you know, same old bullshit with her.”  
He locked his phone and slid it back into a pocket, ignoring as it began buzzing audibly with numerous texts.

“Shit,” Rick whistled, “sounds like she’s texting you a novel to edit. What happened, she find out about you and Andrea at the work party?”

Shane was rolling his eyes, about to rebuff when the radio in the console between them crackled to life.

“Cars stand by for a priority call,” the dispatcher’s voice cut through the night and both men sat forward in their seats, “Possible abduction in progress, Welks Lane and Morgan Street by the abandoned funeral home. No flash information, male caller screaming for assistance that a female has been taken in a black 4 door car. Male is in foot pursuit of the vehicle on Welks, still awaiting updated location information. Cars use caution.”  
  
The dispatcher began to repeat the priority again as Rick threw the car into gear and hit the siren switch and Shane fumbled with his seatbelt. He may not have been looking for action but there were only six units working in the county on a Wednesday last out shift and damned if they weren’t going to be the first one on scene.

“Charlie 22,” Rick replied into the radio, “put us in, we’re about 3 minutes away.”  
  
“Charlie 22 copy.”

It would be fifteen days before he even remembered what the word quiet meant.


	2. Headlights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 10 Months Before, the first time he saw her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to say a big THANK YOU to everyone who took the time read, comment or leave kudos for chapter 1. This story is going to go back and forth between Rick's POV in the present day and Daryl's POV telling he and Beth's story. It'll all make sense after 3 or 4 chapters...I hope! haha

Chapter 2

Headlights

10 months before

 

He was down by the creek inlet the first time he saw her; she was bathed in the dim glow of his F520's headlights.

No, not the first time he saw her, not a chance of that in a town like theirs. Colter was the kind of place people walked around like their heels had split open and rooted themselves to the soil, like they'd whiter up and die if they tried pulling up stakes and planting themselves somewhere else.

He wasn't special, Daryl Dixon would live and die in Colter just like the family tree of trailer folk who's most recently sprouted branch he hung from; moonshiners, meth heads and woman beaters. He'd itched his whole life to get out, felt it in the scars his daddy left on his back with that old leather strap, in every inhale of a Marlboro Red like the one that burnt his mamma up to nothing in that bed.

At least he was self-aware which he figured made him at least a fucking inch better.

Sometimes, when he was a kid he'd thought enough of himself that he might leave one day, might go somewhere with more than just enough light and water to keep a thing alive.

The thicket of woods that held Colter together was where he'd always felt the only peace of a home. Before his Uncle Will got too bad with the pills he wasn't a half bad guy. He made a habit of trying to be a role model, taught his nephews everything he knew about the wild, about hunting, about following the land.

When Daryl got older, after Will OD'd, he started going into the woods on his own. More than once he'd stood where he knew their borders would lead him somewhere else, spill him out on the other side in some other town or city if he kept walking.

Yet here he was, 21 years old and he'd never even seen the ocean. Here he was, down by the creek inlet sitting on the hood of his truck like he did every Friday night. Here he was, with Theo and Aaron and a warm case of Buds.

He'd spent hundreds of nights out on this same patch of dirt road. Someone brought music, someone grabbed beer, occasionally someone brought a girl. For the most part though, it was rinse and repeat.

So, it was weird how Beth Greene looked like a place he'd never been standing there in front of him.

He'd seen her plenty. She was just coming out of the junior high into the big building when he'd graduated by the skin of his teeth. He'd stood in the back once at the county fair when he got hired on for seasonal work, watching her show piglets all proud and mothering the little squirming things. Most girls in town got all dolled up for the fair, painted their faces so fucking overwhelmingly for that stupid beauty pageant or spent the whole thing pushing their tits out trying to get some shmuck to win them a dumb prize tossing shit at bottles. Beth had been real sweet though, mud all over her coveralls while she held her little pigs out for the kids to pet.

He'd driven Glenn up to her farm a few times to pick up Maggie. He'd seen Beth then, long legs folded under her on the front porch doing homework and watching after he sister with a concerned frown as she darted down towards the truck. That had been before, Maggie didn't need a ride now that she'd started driving her dead brother's old Civic.

But the first time he really saw Beth Greene, she was standing in the twin beams of his headlights. Her light wash jeans had smudges of dirt along the thighs, right in the spot one would swipe their hands as they worked. Her brown leather boots were the pretty kind, with intricate flowers stitched along the sides but they were scuffed just enough to know they weren't just for show. The faded yellow t-shirt she wore had sleeves but her arms were so long it didn't seem to matter, miles of smooth pale flesh before the hands that she didn't seem to know what to do with, fingers of one clutched tight around a dark blue mound of cloth.

__

__

Top 40 country radio was playing on the big Dewalt water resistant radio Theo kept in his car and used at job sites. When she made a little noise in the back of her throat Aaron looked up from the deck of cards he was shuffling and reached for the volume adjustment.

Out of the three of them he looked the least fucking trustworthy. Everyone knew Theo spent most of his free time volunteering at his granddaddy's church, driving old folks to and from services and fixing odds and ends around the place. And well shit, girls flocked to Aaron like stray dogs to a piece of meat. There wasn't a chance he could tell them it was their brothers and boyfriends he preferred, not in a place like Colter.

The point was he was the last choice any girl alone on a backroad would probably go looking for help from. He was greasy, had barely bothered to splash water over his face in the shop bathroom before he clocked out for the day. Appearance aside, just like he knew who the Greene's were, Beth Greene knew damn well who the Dixons were.

Yet, for a reason he'd never understand it was his gaze she met as she spoke. He'd never seen the ocean but her eyes were like two of them, big blue pools that looked right between his friends and met his; her chin jutting any nerves she might have had out of the way proudly. Her hair was a shiny platinum gold, not the kind from a bottle and it hung over her shoulder in a long ponytail with all kinds of little braids woven through it. Her pink lips parted once to speak, then fell shut and then once more after a beat, opened again.

"I was lookin' for my sister," she announced simply.

A small giggle slipped between Theo's lips and like there was a contagion in the air Aaron followed suit. Daryl might have laughed too, if he didn't watch the pinch of pink swallow Beth's cheeks. He probably looked indifferent, smoke still tucked under his lip where he'd been about to light it before she walked up. Her eyes ticked towards his friends and then back to him and he felt a familiar tug in his stomach even if he didn't let it show on his face. She thought they were laughing at her.

The shake of his head was so small she might not have seen, but she did, her expression begging him to explain.

This little universe standing in front of him, speaking to him without words like she could see right inside his head.

"She's with Glenn," his voice elaborated and he nudged a shoulder towards the dark road behind them. He hoped he didn't have to explain any further. Figured she could put two and two together and come up with the solution that her sister was preoccupied in the most personal way. He wasn't in the business of exposing his friend for wanting to be alone with his girl, not with Glenn's parents always riding his ass the way they did and Maggie's….well Maggie's situation being what it was.

Her face fell for the briefest of moments although she recovered it quickly, jaw tightening and wiggling her button nose to will away any further emotion. Even though he'd only told her the truth he felt a gnawing guilt, he might as well have slapped her.

"Oh," she sighed and began wringing the fabric between both hands, "she was supposed to pick me up at work is all. She never showed so I started walkin, figured I might as well check down here."

The fabric unraveled slightly, two strings escaping it to hang down by her feet and he recognized the familiar Big Spot logo on the apron.

"Walked all the way here from The Big Spot?"

She just shrugged, sharp shoulders rising up and down. She took a long breath and bounced up and down on her heels, peering over his truck into the blackness. Her cheeks puffed up with air and then released. Without another word she turned on a heel and started back down the road, taking a few long strides out of the light.

"Greene," he found himself sliding off the hood of truck, making quick work of dumping the contents of his beer into the dirt as she glanced back over her shoulder. By now Aaron and Theo had quieted down, watching the exchange with interest. He did he best not to meet the inquiring expressions as he retrieved his unlit cigarette and tucked it behind an ear. He tilted his head towards the truck. "Can give you a ride, if ya want."

Her upper lip quirked for the smallest of seconds than she was talking to him in his head again. Her eyes darted to the beer can by his boot and then back at him with an almost raised eyebrow. He nodded, he was fine to drive.

Girl had no reason to trust him. The whole town knew his daddy and his brother were drunks, knew his mamma had been one too.

But she smiled a smile with every single tooth, sharp canines on the side glinting in the light.

He knew his face read blank, he was good at keeping it that way. But she sure was something worth seeing when she smiled that like.

"Ok."

Daryl hefted the case of Buds from his hood to replace it on Theo's and ignored the jabbing elbow his friend threw against his rib cage.

"Alright Dixon, I see you."

Beth must have heard the comment because a blush swallowed her face as she climbed into his passenger side, needing to hoist herself up with some effort to get up into the thing and use both hands to pull the door shut behind her.

"Go fuck yourselves," he hissed in both men's directions once she was inside the cab and they both erupted into a drunk laughter that was drowned out when he climbed in the driver's side and slammed his own door closed.

He tried not to look too hard in her direction as he guided the truck off the dirt road and back out onto the highway, hit his blinker for the left turn to take him towards the Greene farm.

He didn't realize how dirty his truck was until she was in it. The cab smelled like grease, the console cluttered with crumpled cigarette packs, the floor littered with half empty Gatorade bottles.

There was a long few minutes of silence before she spoke, her pale face like a little moon watching him from the passenger seat.

"Thank you, ya didn't have to."

"S' a long walk," was all he managed, drumming fingers along the steering wheel to keep them from finding his mouth in an old nervous habit.

And then, after a beat, he dared at a glance at her.

"Big Spots far out, kinda shitty of Maggie, leavin' ya hanging like that."

Ditching your sister to fuck your boyfriend, hardly seemed right. He liked Maggie enough, didn't mind her hanging around. He got a kick out of the way Glenn trailed after her. She was funny, not in a trying too hard way like most girls and she was content drinking a beer and shooting the shit. And after her mamma and brother he'd held a certain amount of sympathy for the girl. Still, the little glint of rejection in Beth's eye hadn't been lost in him.

He knew all about that, being Merle Dixon's baby brother and all.

When she turned there was something a little harder in her, something sharp.

"I'm not mad at her. She probably just forgot. I know she gets all crazy where Glenn's concerned."

He recognized that too. Merle might have been a piece of shit but only he could say that.

"Besides," the hardness was gone from her voice that quick and she shifted a little in his seat and reached for the radio dial, "it's not a big deal, walkin' is good exercise."

She was still spinning the knob, flying thru snippets of songs with a curious ear when he snorted. She opened her mouth in a grinning attempt at contempt.

"What? It is!"

"Bout' as big as a minute girl, think you'll live without walkin' yourself to exhaustion."

"Well I never did think it, Daryl Dixon has a sense of humor."

She settled on a song, something he didn't know with a guitar and a female singer. Her knee bounced a little until he spoke.

"And what did you think of me?"

The question came out faster and harsher than he meant. Her lips closed around her smile and her hands went back to fidgeting on that apron.

Fucking idiot.

"Sorry," he grumbled, forcing his eyes on the road before him.

He had a pretty girl like Beth Greene in his front seat, the kind of girl who ought to have been in those beauty pageants because she wouldn't have needed a lick of makeup to win, and he'd managed to yell at her for absolutely no reason.

Just like the rest of the Dixons, self-aware or not.

"I just know how most people probably think of me," he forced out, mostly because he couldn't stand the thought her of sitting there being nervous. Being afraid of him.

Out of his peripheral he could see her long fingers still on the apron and feel her eyes burning into the side of his face.

"I think you're a real good guy who offered to give me a ride home when he didn't have to. That's what I think about you Daryl Dixon."

The rest of the ride was silent, Beth humming real quiet but pretty under her breath. His intestines were working themselves into knots as he pulled down the drive towards the Greene farm, not only because he didn't know what to say to the girl when she got out but because he didn't want to see her go.

She'd called him a good guy and even though it wasn't true it sounded like the it was from the mouth of the Lord coming from her.

In about 80 seconds the moment would be over. Beth Greene would go back to just being Maggie's sister and he'd be back down at the inlet with his friends and that's how it would stay.

Their house was big and old, well-kept but lived in. The dirt drive curved off the road and was about half a mile surrounded by grass until you reached the house. Sean Greene was older than him, they'd never been friends. He'd never set foot on the farm until Glenn forced him there but he could tell it would have been a picturesque place to grow up. The kind of place towns like Colter ought to have been full of.

He stopped about half way down the drive, let the truck slow real easy until he finally put it in park.

Daryl figured she'd hop out, probably thank him again. Instead she shifted again in her seat, stared up at her house for a long breath.

"My daddy's selling some of the land."

The admission came out of nowhere, sad and quiet.

"Why?"

He was genuinely curious. He couldn't imagine having something as sprawling as the land before him and ever wanting to let it go. Beth had impressive posture, her shoulder blades and lines of her throat made perfect right angles but when she started to speak they slouched in on themselves in just the slightest.

"Just hard for him, keepin' up with. Things are different since…"

She didn't have to finish the sentence; since cancer stole Mrs. Greene and the sadness and a sawed off shotgun let Sean join her.

There was a wrestling match on his tongue between words he should say, the kind of things a good guy would be able to mouth off with without having to think so hard.

"You mind if I just finish this song?" she asked before he could fumble over any of them, "I just really love this one."

He nodded, mute and dumb and a little claustrophobic all the sudden with the realization that she wasn't dying to be out of his company.

The girl on the radio was singing something about being lonely, about letting something go; some country tune with a pop beat behind it. The song was kind of sad but the look in Beth's eyes when she started singing along was anything but.

Took him a long minute to realize his already bitten down thumb nail had found it's way between his teeth as he watched her sing. She was sparing little glances in his direction, drumming her fingers on the seat beside her.

"What're you doing at the Big Spot with a voice like that?"

It was the right thing to say, the kind of thing Aaron would say. She blushed and grinned but kept on singing.

Until there was a clatter off somewhere to the right. They both sat forward in their seats and Beth reached out to turn the volume down. There was a small, storage type barn set close off the house and a motion sensor light over the wooden double doors had turned on.

Hershel Greene braced himself on one door as he sloppily closed the other behind himself. When he stumbled he reached out to apologize to the air that had tripped him. The sides of Beth's mouths turned downward. Neither of them spoke as the farmer made his way across the front lawn in a zig zag pattern. About half way to the house he sat down in the grass and didn't move again.

Daryl didn't know a lot, but he knew what fall down drunk looked like.

"I better go get him."

She was quiet, a little hoarse all the sudden.

Hershel wasn't an overly large man but she was a small girl.

"I can help," he reached for the door handle, "help get him to the porch."

"No," Beth reached out and her palm touched his forearm, just for a second, "he's too proud. It's better if I do it alone."

She stuck her apron under one arm and opened her door, holding it with one hand for balance when she hopped down into the dirt. She lingered there for a second.

"Thanks a lot Daryl."

"Ain't nothin'," he mumbled. It was one insane second of courage, maybe powered by the place where his arm was still hot from her touch, that made him speak up again.

"If ya get off the same time tomorrow, I could just pick ya up. Save Maggie the time."

She smiled, not with all her teeth this time but small and like she knew something he didn't.

"I'm off tomorrow," she almost sounded regretful, "but Sunday I'm done at 4….if ya ain't got nothing else to do."

"Nah, nothin' important."

There weren't any more words or smiles, she just nodded and shut the door behind her.

In the glow of his headlights Beth crouched down beside her daddy in the grass and laid a hand on his shoulder. Hershel waved her off a few times, like an irritated toddler. When his shoulders trembled and she wrapped him up in both arms Daryl knew the old man was crying.

Her tiny frame held him like a crutch all the way to the porch and when they disappeared thru the front door Daryl finally released the breath he'd been holding.

Colter had just gotten a little bigger.


	3. Tail lights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 30 Minutes After.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! First of all I am so sorry it has taken me so long to update this and I know I have a few other things caught in limbo that need to be updated. I am just so busy at work and have such a weird schedule (I'm actually a police dispatcher so you can consider the dispatcher in this story my Hitchcock cameo lol). I hope you still want to read this because I'm going to be on vacation starting Saturday for about ten days and hoping to pump out as many chapters and updates for other things as I can. It's also very early in the morning and I just finished this after a 12 hour shift so hopefully it's as acceptable as I think it is right now. Let me know!

Chapter 3

Tail lights

30 Minutes After

* * *

 

 

Birdie Dixon had been dead for 15 years and that was the only part of the story most folks in Colter could agree on. The day's account was one of those things that been spun and turned a hundred times over and varied drastically depending on who was tellin' it.

For years there was a gruesome rumor started by the school yard mothers that Merle Dixon Sr. had doused his wife in gasoline and lit her up himself. People had always whispered about his pretty young bride (and that's how everyone always described her, too pretty and too young for a Dixon) walking around with cover up caked over her black eyes. One day he'd finally gone too far they would _tsk_ _tsk_. That girl should've gotten her baby and got out when she could they would say.

Rick was only 13, his whole universe rotating around a sun compromised equal parts the Atlanta Braves and the suddenly interesting lengths of girl's legs. Birdie's sons were older and younger than him by more than a handful of years each way and while the story stirred up a certain amount of tragic excitement for the small town, it hadn't been more than a blip on his radar. His mamma had cried at the obituary in the newspaper the church had collected to take out. She insisted Birdie was a kind woman and shook her head in distain for weeks about the rumors festering in Colter.

"A man who lacks judgement derides his neighbor, but a man of understanding holds his tongue," she quoted Proverbs to him pointedly once when he asked if it was true that Merle Dixon Jr. had killed his mother.

That was the other running theory, that Birdie's delinquent son had purposely set the house ablaze searching for some kind of insurance pay out. Merle was in his late teens then and already notorious in Colter for his growing criminal record. The account varied on whether he had known his mother was asleep inside or not. In the minds of small town gossips, it was easy for a young man to escalate from auto theft and minor drug trafficking to full blown murder and arson.

In between the two extremes were dozens of disparities on both. Maybe Birdie had finally had enough, started the fire herself trying to put an end to her husband's abuse. Perhaps Merle and his daddy had gotten into it again, knocked something off the stove in the scuff and both fled the house; not caring enough to go in after their mama and wife.

Maybe it was the little one, unattended like he was most of the time. Maybe he'd gotten into the matches while his parents both drank themselves numb.

Rick knew the truth now of course, he'd read the official reports on the case. He'd been trained by the men who were on scene that day.

There was a long-documented history of domestic violence in the Dixon family spanning back generations, but the truth was that Merle Sr. wasn't even in town the day his wife died. The then functioning alcoholic was on a long haul in the 18-wheeler he drove sporadically for income. And his name-sake wasn't within a 100 miles of Colter, had been locked up in Jefferson county the night before and was still waiting to see a judge on petty theft charges. And the little one, well anyone with half a brain knew that theory had never been one to genuinely speculate on.

The sad truth was Birdie Dixon never even got out of bed that day, drank a bottle of wine for breakfast and fell asleep with a lit cigarette dangling between her fingers. Not nearly as exciting as Colter town lure tried to make it, but a damn shame none the less.

One of the Sergeants who had trained Rick, now retired but unable to keep himself from meandering into the station at least once a week, always told the tale with a haunted glaze over his eyes. It was just one of those cases that a cop drug like an ankle weight for the rest of their life.

_"That little one, he was tore up something awful. He'd come skittering up the road after a buncha other kids on bikes and started whaling… this noise I never heard in my whole life. He was clawing and bitin' at us tryin' to get inside after his mamma. Whole damn house had been engulfed before the engine even got there. We had to put him in the cruiser and lock the doors, can't ever forget them little fists pounding on the glass."_

The fist that had connected with Rick's jaw twenty minutes prior certainly hadn't belonged to a crying little boy and he ran an experimental tongue over his teeth once more, just to check that they were still intact. Daryl Dixon matched Rick in height but he had a broad stance, solid arms only manual labor could build and even in the dark his right hook had landed expertly.

He was strong and even worse he was scared, an agitated mixture that left him a ball of energy operating on pure adrenaline. It had taken three officers to subdue him off his fruitless sprint down the road in the dark, chasing taillights Rick was certain were miles ahead of them by now.

Now there was a lost glaze over his eyes, directed somewhere non-descript as they gazed out of the cruisers window, his forehead resting against the glass. Reds and blues danced over his features and Rick was reminded of the story of the little boy watching flames swallow his mamma up whole.

The old Foley Funeral home had been vacant since it went out of business almost ten years prior but was currently swimming with activity. All six squads working the county were on scene and the dispatcher had put a call in for backup from State as well as road check points being put in place going off the minimal amount of information they'd been able to get out of Daryl.

Black car, white cross, Beth Greene.

Something about a dog, something about being set up.

A desperate attempt to keep marathoning down that pitch-black road.

Daryl's breath wreaked of moonshine and Rick hadn't brought it up yet. No need to prod the beast. He didn't know much about Daryl, other than the stories about the fire and the weight of his family's reputation.

After their mother died Merle had made good on people's expectations of him and escalated into a steady life of adult incarceration. When he wasn't behind bars he was known to run with a small biker outfit who were responsible for most of the narcotics push in the county. Merle was rude and brash, blacklisted from most of the bars and businesses in town and notorious for wanting to fight the police.

Their uncle Will had been one of the first recorded OD's in the 'King County Opiate Epidemic' and Merle Dixon Sr. was a story all his own.

From what Rick knew the younger Dixon was different, hadn't done much to live up to the family name. He'd been working at Dale's Auto Shop in town since he was old enough to be put on the books and seemed to hang with a quiet group his own age. Rick was certain he'd seen his face in a crowd they'd dispersed for underage drinking once or twice a few years back but never anything more serious than that. Daryl kept to himself and that was just fine with Rick. For what it was worth, he seemed like a decent guy.

This whole business of Beth Greene though, of Daryl being alone out here with her at the abandoned funeral home, that was the part Rick wasn't quite catching.

Everyone in town knew the Greene's. It had always been that way, long before the last year seemed to engulf them in a dark cloud. Hershel was a farmer and a veterinarian who cared for not only his animals but those on most of the surrounding farms and had for years. Before the cancer his wife Annette had been a preschool teacher at the church nursery for as long as Rick could remember.

They were a sweet couple with 3 great kids and it had been a real gut punch to the whole town when their matriarch fell sick. But what came after, that was a sad like Colter had never known.

A quiet night like the one he found himself in now; a report of gunshots fired at the Greene farm.

He'd never be able to hear Beth's name and not remember her how they'd found her that night; crumpled in the grass by the barn clutching blood drenched hands on her knees and releasing a whining, gasping cry as if she couldn't catch one single breath.

He and Shane pulling her fingers apart, checking her abdomen for wounds, confused to find none until they heard the undeniable wail of a man in pain coming from inside the barn. Hershel was bent over his son's body, vainly trying to apply pressure where the bullet had entered his skull from the place where his chin met his throat.

Just a month after his mother's death Sean Greene had taken his own life out back in the barn while his daddy and sister slept. Beth had found him first, faster than her daddy and barreling through the night when the sound startled her from her bed.

Rick had tried to keep an eye out for them since then. From what he gathered Hershel didn't leave the farm much these days, but the girls seemed to bounce back after a while. Beth began volunteering at church functions again and he'd been thankful to see it. Maggie hadn't been there the night of the incident, away in Atlanta visiting colleges but Rick saw her around town now, usually with her boyfriend and she seemed ok.

They seemed ok. All things considered it seemed like what was left of the Greene family was trying at getting back to normal.

Rick cursed under his breath. Until now anyway.

A quick whistle grabbed his attention and he turned to meet Shane at the end of the long drive that led up to the vacant white house. His partner was disconnecting a call and sliding his phone back into his pocket.

"Alright they're waking up Morgan, he'll be on his way out here."

Rick grimaced. Morgan Jones was a good sheriff and a good guy, but he tended to disagree with some of his methods. Police work and pacificism just couldn't always go hand in hand.

"How about the road blocks?"

Shane bounced on his heels and nodded.

"Got trooper units on every major road way leading out of the county with the description and we're working on getting them a photo of Beth."

Rick scrubbed a palm over his face.

"Anyone at the house yet?"

He thought about Hershel and Maggie and this might not have been a single shot fired in the night, but it was going to hit them like one.

Shane's head bobbed, peering over Rick's shoulder towards their cruiser where Daryl had been contained.

"Sent Leroy and Thomlison down to the farm," he shrugged an optimistic shoulder, "maybe the kids just drunk and Beth's going to come answer the door for them and we can all go home and get some sleep."

Rick grimaced.

"You saw what I saw up there."

Shane sighed, they both knew this night was not about to be wrapped in neat little bow.

Signs of a struggle were undeniable inside the funeral home; broken glass and the rear door splintered where it looked like someone had held it from one side as someone tried to force their way in.

There were signs of something else too; fading lit candles and two open jars of moonshine on the table.

"We gotta get the full story out of him," Rick shrugged an elbow towards the car, "I'd personally like to get what we can out of him before they send someone down from State to stomp all over everything."

"Think Dixon's full of shit?" Shane prompted, leaning in a little closer as if to share a secret, "cause I'm trying to figure out If we're lookin' for a livin' girl or a body." His partners eyebrows met at an angry peak. "I mean what were they doing out here anyway, nice girl like Beth and a Dixon?"

"I don't think we should assume he's lying," Rick interjected, and he meant it. Daryl seemed drained and maybe coming out of a deep drunk into reality but also utterly torn apart at every seam. Rick didn't get the vibe he was lying.

He didn't need Shane getting any ideas in his head and jumping the gun. Shane tended to be that way, always ten steps ahead of himself without watching where he was going.

"We need to take what he's saying at face value and get him to fill in the blanks," Rick made sure Shane met his gaze and offered him a reluctant nod of agreement, "but we need to do it quick."

If this job was what it was looking like it was, a true abduction, then detectives from the State Police would be sending investigators down to shew him away like a child before the dawn broke. That didn't mean he was going to back off and he needed to know everything Daryl knew before it happened.

The first 24 hours were the most crucial in any kind of abduction and they didn't have time to sit around waiting for the big guns to have their morning coffee. Beth could still be alive and still be in the immediate area.

God knew the girl had already had a rough enough go of things.

Rick reached for his radio.

"Charlie 22."

"Charlie 22 go ahead'."

"I need you to call Macon PD and see if they can start some K-9's down here for us, I want a full sweep of these surrounding woods. And turn us around to headquarters with our witness. Units on location will be holding the scene for CSU."

"Charlie 22 copy, calling them now sir."

"And I need to know as soon as we make contact with anyone at the Greene farm."

When he released the radio Shane was regarding him with a tucked chin and raised eyebrow.

"We doing this without waiting for Morgan?"

Rick huffed.

"We haven't got the time to wait for him to do his wake-up yoga, we're already 30 minutes into this."

Shane bit back a grin.

"Works for me brother."

He let Shane drive, the two of them piling into the front seat of the cruiser. When Shane placed the key in the ignition Daryl's face appeared between them against the cage.

"Let me out."

There was an edge there that made Rick turn in his seat, a gravel that made him sound like his brother. For the first time he noticed the bruise that was beginning to splotch to life around his right eye.

"We got to get to the station and get your whole story Daryl, letting you lose in the dark right now isn't gonna get us Beth back any sooner."

A hand slammed against the metal and Shane spun around quickly, teeth nearly snarled.

"Knock it the fuck off and get yourself together, do you wanna go catching charges tonight Dixon?"

He expected a rebuttal from Daryl, another growl thru the cage but he surprised them both and fell back against the seat. The sound that slipped between his lips was equally animalistic, but the bite was gone.

No, this sound was wounded, physically jarring when it settled in their ears. Like something caught in a trap.

Shane started the cruiser off the road and Rick thought again of the story, of the last time Daryl Dixon had been stuffed in a police cruiser to save himself from his own grief.

He wondered why history kept repeating itself, why Colter seemed to be out to get the same families over and over again.


	4. Firsts and Interruptions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for coarse and offensive language because well.... Merle Dixon -shrug-. This also may feel a little fluffy but I need to build this relationship via these chapters from the past. Also, I've been thinking long and hard about if my Daryl is very out of character. I've decided that he isn't, based on the world I've placed him in. I think the Daryl we know and love could very well have been on the sweeter and slightly more optimistic side like my Daryl is had he had good people in his life at a young age. I think all it would have taken was a good group of friends to give him the push he needed to see himself as more. I can imagine Daryl being young and still thinking maybe he could make something of himself before he got too jaded with the world.

Chapter 4

7 Months Before

Firsts and Interruptions

* * *

When their mamma died Merle was 17. He was still so scrawny and dirty and downright _poor_ looking that judges and policemen sometimes took pity on him. The judge who he had to go before the morning of the fire for swipin' a bottle of Wild Turkey heard the story from the public defender and sent the boy home on a bus with a slap on the wrist and a fair warning to clean up his act.

Merle was still a kid, caught up in the hustle and bustle of easy cash because for someone who'd never had a lick of it, being handed a hundred-dollar bill just for dropping off a couple packages wasn't something he could just pass up.

He was just a kid when he came home and tried to make some kind of sense of the mess their mamma left behind. Trying to go toe to toe with the old man while wrangling a six-year-old who had decided to make a mute of himself after screaming every tear he had out of him.

Merle was a kid but back then, to Daryl, he'd been like that character Atlas who carried the whole world around on his back.

And Merle tried, Daryl knows he did. If Merle hadn't tried even just once, Daryl wouldn't even know about this spot down on the water.

Merle took him here when he was six and hadn't let a syllable roll off his tongue since he woke up in the hospital after heaving himself to exhaustion. When his daddy kept shaking him and slapping him in the ear and asking if he was a _god damn retard or something_ now.

They sat down on the log by the waters edge together and Merle baited two hooks and didn't even say anything about him having to learn to do it himself. They just fished and Merle smoked and talked even if Daryl didn't say a thing back.

_"Recon I'm pissed at er'. Oughta been smarter than to fall asleep like that. Just an accident, s'all it was. She wouldn't have left ya behind on purpose. Me maybe, but not you. But ya ain't gotta talk, don't matter none. I know ya can. Don't know why that asshole thinks anybody got anything to say to him anyway."_

Merle started slinging dope to keep Daryl fed and bills paid and they fished at their spot and for a year after their mamma died, Merle carried the world.

Eventually he spoke again. Not to Merle but to the kid at the desk next to him named Glenn who wouldn't ever shut up.

Eventually, the world got too heavy and Merle dropped it. Eventually the judges stopped looking at him like a misguided youth and more like a menace to society. Their daddy's hits got harder and Merle left and each time he came back his words got harder too.

But for a while his brother tried, which is why Daryl has this place to bring Beth. So that's something.

Beth doesn't have any problem baiting her own hook even if she does look down at the earth worm wriggling in her palm with a bit of regret.

"Sorry fella," she says just barely over a whisper but she smiles when he snorts out a laugh.

"Didn't know worms had ears," he teases and she gives him a mock look of contempt as she slides her hook through the thing's center.

"We're all God's creatures Daryl," she reminds and there's a sing song in her voice that tells him she's just teasing right back.

She's not really, Beth's the kind of girl who genuinely thinks that every single life has meaning from the cows on her farm to the worm at the end of her line.

She's the kind of girl who has thought a guy like him has been worth spending most of her afternoons with for the last three months.

This is their first date, at least he thinks so. It's the first time he specifically asked her to do something that wasn't just something else they'd end up getting into after he picked her up from work, which he's been doing every night he can since that first time. Aaron and Theo said it was time that he actually goes out of his way to plan something for them to do together. Glenn said that Maggie said that he'd better be careful with her baby sister but she didn't seem out right upset about the whole thing.

He was still cautious, still staring at the ceiling every night after he dropped her off and gnawing at his fingernails.

She seemed to like riding around the back roads of town in his truck and she usually came up with some reason for him not to take her home just yet and when he brought her down to the inlet with the guys she fit right in and laughed at their jokes and she called Theo 'Tdog' even though they told her nobody called him that but himself.

Still, he still didn't think she'd say yes. So yesterday when he'd managed to mutter out the request as she was finishing the ice cream cone she'd just had to have before she could even think about going home from work he was prepared to be let down.

He was prepared for the _sorry fella_ and not the every-single-tooth smile and the _I love fishin', how did you know?_

They sit on the same old log he's been sitting on since long after his brother stopped coming down here with him. Beth's wearing shorts and they ain't daisy dukes by no means but it's the first time he's seen her bare legs and he feels 14 instead of 21 because he's got work to keep his eyes off them. Her hairs done up in some kind of braid like always, something that looks like it takes hours to do but he's sure it doesn't really because Beth ain't that type of girl. Her t-shirt is tie dye and he'd put money on the fact that she made it herself and there's not a lick of makeup on her face, just a spattering of sun freckles that have been darkening as the summer drags on.

"You know," she nudges him in the ribs but keeps her eyes on the water before them and her hands busy on her rod, "I been wonderin' when you were gonna ask me on a date."

"Who said this was a date girl?" he knows she knows he's joking, they've figured that rhythm out by now, "man's gotta eat and you said you were such a great fisherman."

"Oh," she feigns offense, "in that case, I'll just go free all these worms and you can starve Daryl Dixon."

His lips tug upwards on their own accord. There's no reason but he really likes it when she says his full name like that. Cause even when she's joking, Beth says his name like it means something.

"Nah," he grunts, "figured s' bout time. Been hanging your feet out my truck window for a couple months now, might as well have a first date."

That's Beth's favorite thing, kicking off her boots and lounging across the bench seat in his truck and singing while he burns up gas just for the sake of gettin' to listen to her.

"Oh Daryl," she shakes her head and casts her reel like it's the most natural thing in the world for her, "this is not our first date. This is just the first one that was your idea."

"That right?"

She nods and works her line in slightly.

"That's right. Out first date was the first Sunday you picked me up from work and we went and got Icee's afterwards and drank them on the tailgate of your truck."

Of course he remembers. They talked in the Ick parking lot until there were lightning bugs for Beth to catch. Mostly Beth had talked but he'd told her things too, some of the things he'd been swallowing down since he was a little kid biting his own tongue.

About his daddy and the end of the belt, about his mamma and his uncle Will with that needle stuck up in his arm.

And Beth told him, fiddling with her straw and looking up and down and anywhere but at him, about how the day her mamma got diagnosed was like a sinkhole opening and sucking her whole family in. How she wondered if her daddy and Maggie even remembered she was still there with them somedays.

"Guess that means we been datin' a few months then," he concludes and she just replies with a happy little noise.

"Guess it does."

For a few minutes it's quiet, just the background hum of birds and insects over top one another and he knows she wants to say something else but she's still mulling it over.

And then he hears the snap of a branch under a boot and Beth doesn't even notice it but he's spent a quarter of his life in these woods. She jumps a little when he forces his rod into her hands so she's balancing both and jumps up on his heels to face the tree line. He's got a buck knife on his belt like he usually does when he comes out here so he rests his fingers on the handle and places his body in front of hers.

She's sputtering out his name in confusion when some branches move off to the right and the figure comes strolling out into the clearing.

"Jesus," Merle groans, "shoulda known to look you for ya down here first."

His brother's wearing black denim jeans and a wife beater that's seen better days under his leather cut. His hairs buzzed short and there's an angry splotch of purple bruising swallowing his right eye.

Daryl's tongue feels heavy and kind of like when he was a kid because he feels Merle's eyes drift around him, just to the right where Beth's managed to get her own rod reeled in and is now working on Daryl's while also pulling herself to her feet and he cringes when Merle whistles, long and low and wiggles his eyebrows.

"Well damn brother," Merle has a habit of dragging out the last letter of every word, to make some kind of point, "didn't know you were using our spot as a pussy point. Bout time you got some."

A heat ignites at the back of his neck but creeps down his arms as the muscles clench and settles in his fists. He half turns to Beth, can't look her in the eye.

"Stay here."

She doesn't say anything, opens her mouth for a second but snaps it shut and he knows she's never seen him like this.

Beth's never seen him angry, never seen what the Dixon inside of him can be. And nobody brings it out in him like his brother. He stalks across the clearing until their boot toes bump, almost nose to nose and the hostility knocks Merle a little off balance.

"What crawled up your ass?" his brother hisses and shoves him out of his personal space with a hand on his chest, "been wandering around this shit hole town all morning lookin' for ya and that's the greeting I get?"

"Don't talk about her like that."

Merle clicks his tongue and rocks back on his heels.

"Well look at you, has my baby brother finally gone and found himself an old lady? Bout time, was starting to wonder considering how much time you spend with that faggot."

The word stings. Aaron's had his back since the day they met in 6th grade.

"What do you want Merle?"

"Governor got a big run coming up," his brother raises one hand and rubs his thumb against the tips of his fingers to signify he's going to be making a significant amount of money, "need some bodies for the trip. Got a pretty penny with your name on it."

Daryl grimaces at the mention of the Governor, the eye-patched leader of Merle's outfit who looks like a fucking cartoon character yet his brother heels to like a dog.

"You already know I ain't interested."

Merle never tried to recruit him before the Governor. His brother might have called him a pussy and a chump for working his ass off for a legal wage but he'd never actually asked Daryl to join him. He'd always thought maybe Merle wanted better for him, even if he never said it. Thought maybe his brother was still trying.

But in the last year Merle's changed his tune, ever since he started taking orders from his new boss and ever since he started using more and more of his own product. Daryl can see it now, the way his pupils are starting to swallow his eyes.

"Man up," Merle hisses, "you gonna live off the couch change Dale throws you every Friday for the rest'a your life? I tell you ya ain't got no business havin' a girl if you don't got no money."

Merle always knows where to hit. He knows Beth ought to be going on dates with guys who can take her somewhere other than fishing or for dollar icee's. Guys who should be able to help her so she doesn't have to work so hard at the store and then at the farm just to keep everything running. Guys who could make it possible for her to be heading off to college in the fall instead of putting it on hold like she has.

But she says his name like it's worth saying and the second he takes a penny from the places his brother does, that's over.

"I can't man."

Merle's lips come together in a tight line and his eyebrows meet at an angry peak and he leans in this time, talks quieter.

"I need you brother. Look I missed up the last deal and shit went south. This is my chance to make amends or I'm in deep shit. They'll kill me if I don't ace this one. I mean it, these psychos are gonna have my head."

This person before him used to hold the universe on his back.

"You're gonna have to get someone else."

He can hear a shift on the gravel behind him and knows Beth's been working her way closer but he holds up a hand, faces his palm out towards her and the footsteps cease.

"You're really gonna leave me out high and dry for some bitch huh?" his brother spits, "think you're somethin' special cause you got a bitch suckin' your dick all the sudden?"

His fist connects with his brother's jaw so sharp and sudden he thinks for sure he's broken it. Merle's back hits the ground and Beth gasps but it doesn't stop him from stepping over his brother's body and hauling him up by the collar of his shirt.

"I told you not to talk about her like that."

Merle's a tough son of a bitch but he looks shook as he rolls out of Daryl's grasp and struggles to his feet.

"You're gonna regret this," he manages with a swollen drag to his words, "I took care of you, I was the only one who ever took care of you. You remember that after she decides she's done slummin' it. You're still a Dixon, don't go lettin' yourself forget that."

They face each other for a few long moments before Merle turns to leave the way he came, still mumbling under his breath.

There's still anger coursing through him ready to detonate and he stays facing away from Beth. He is still a Dixon like his brother said.

He'd never hurt her, he'd cut his own hand off before he did that. But he's liable to do something dumb like push her away, like let his brother get in his head.

She's a tiny thing but the sudden force of her weight against his back knocks the wind out of him. Her arms wrap around his waist, her hands knotted together and anchoring her against him and he can feel her chin in the center of his back.

"Daryl…."

"I'm sorry."

"That ain't you," her words drift over his shoulder, "You're not Merle. And he's wrong, he's not the only person who ever cared about you."

Her words tame something inside him. He tries to be gentle when he unlocks her arms from around him and turns to rest his hands on her dainty shoulders.

"Some hell of a date huh?"

A little smile tugs at the corner of her mouth.

"Good thing it's not our first."

She's not looking at him any different after watching him pummel his brother, after watching him stand over him knowing good and well he could have kept hurting him if he wanted. Beth's not looking at him like some wild thing let lose, she's still looking at him like it's the most natural thing in the world for a girl like her to smiling at a guy like him.

And the thing is he's never even kissed the girl.

Three months of car rides and Icees and telling her things he never spoke out loud before and it's not like he hasn't wanted to.

He's more than wanted to but he's glad he never did because this feels right. Doesn't matter what just happened, doesn't matter about their abandoned fishing poles or the slight throb he can still feel across his right knuckles.

Cause Beth Green's arms slide around his neck and she stands up on the tip toes of her battered converse sneakers and she presses her lips against his.

And he feels like he could carry the whole world on his back.


End file.
